


like a piece of cake

by princessprouvaire



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baking, Fluff, James is Abigail's guardian, M/M, Thomas is a social worker, there's also a cat - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 00:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11521011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessprouvaire/pseuds/princessprouvaire
Summary: From the tumblr prompt "Foster parent and social worker AU"!





	like a piece of cake

“Do you think it would help if I baked a cake?” she asked, opening various kitchen cupboards to look for ingredients. 

James walked into the doorway, bright yellow marigolds pulled up to his elbows.

“I mean, as long as they don’t claim I’m endangering you by letting you near hot ovens, or kitchen hazards, or sharp knives. Could make one and then lie about it, maybe? Say I let you mix the bowl under supervision, and that’s it. Made sure you weren’t able to lick the spoon, get salmonella poisoning or something like that.”

“Hmm, I suppose. Maybe I could even tell them you let me make a cup of tea on my own, god forbid!” 

Abigail had begun pulling flour, sugar, and raspberry jam from the cupboards, and James snapped his gloves off to stand next to her, arms folded.

“Lord knows what kind of guardian they’ll assume I’ve been if you tell them that. They’d take me away in chains, I’m sure. Especially if they saw your latest maths grade…” he muttered under his breath, earning a slap on the arm from the girl.

He’d taken in Abigail just over six months ago, a position he’d have never pictured himself being in years before. They found themselves sharing a small two bedroom house outside of Central London, a house James had lived in for almost half a decade now, but it suited them both rather well. She had commandeered several windowsills for flower boxes, and each had their own reading chair in the living room, in which they would frequently sit in comfortable silence with a book until the evening drew in. She had fit in well into a local school, excelled in English studies and the arts, but struggled with maths (an area which James himself was ill-equipped to help with.). 

This afternoon, however, they were due a visit from a new social worker. Abigail’s last worker, a very warm young woman named Madi, had gone on maternity leave, and her last visit had been spent with the girls cooing over pictures of the nursery Madi’s husband had painted for the baby, and feeling her stomach kick. They hadn’t been given the name of the new worker yet, only being told that they would be arriving at 3pm to assess Abigail and James, and their progress.

James left her to cook, knowing Abigail to be a rather proficient baker, and returned to cleaning the living room, putting books away and hoovering up ginger cat hairs. Penelope had scurried upstairs to hide under Abigail’s bed at the first sign of the dreaded machine.

By three o’clock the house was practically sparkling, and the smell of baked goods wafted through the air. Abigail had even changed into a prim white dress, looking overly neat and formal, and putting James’ long-sleeved jumper to shame, but he’d laughed nevertheless when he saw it.

“You know I’m the one who’s supposed to be Mary Poppins in this situation, not yourself?” he’d joked, making Abigail giggle. 

“Well, I’ll make sure to get you a frilly umbrella for Christmas, in that case.” she replied, right as the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get that, you should sit down. Try not to wreck the place, won’t you?”

He went into the hallway, seeing the shadow of a tall man behind the pane of glass. He straightened himself, putting on his best smile as he opened the door.

On the other side of the door stood a man so handsome that James was momentarily taken aback, smile faltering for a second. A pair of pale sapphire eyes stared back at him, above high cheekbones and a pretty mouth. The man had a thin but friendly smile, and presented a large hand out to James.

“Thomas Hamilton, I’m here to speak about the care of Miss Ashe?” he said. James noted the shiny plastic of his identification badge, pinned onto the front of his suit. He shook Thomas’ hand in a firm grip.

“James Flint. Please, come in.”

He stood to the side of the door, the taller man squeezing past him into the hallway. 

“Would you like tea? Coffee?” James asked, showing Thomas into the living room. Abigail gave him a small wave as he sat down in James’ reading chair, which Thomas returned with a warm grin.

“We have Victoria sponge, too!” Abigail piped up. Thomas sat up a little straighter in his seat at that, sparkling eyes looking between the two of them.

“That would be wonderful, thank you very much. And, um, tea if you don’t mind, just milk.” he replied, still smiling as he looked at James. 

“Right! Well, I’ll leave you to talk, be right back.” James said, exiting into the kitchen. He could hear them chatting amicably as he made the tea, which put him at ease. Although they had both adored Madi, Abigail had confessed to him that she had previously had some social workers who she didn’t get on with as well, but this new one already seemed to make Abigail feel chatty and comfortable, at least from what James could hear.

He entered the living room armed with a tray full of cake, cups of tea for Thomas and Abigail, and coffee for himself. The pair looked up at him as he walked into the room, both rather settled in the chairs.

“Oh, thank you very much, Mr. Flint, that looks divine, did you make it yourself?” Thomas asked, inspecting the tall slice of sponge. Abigail had laden it with cream and strawberries.

“Actually, I made it.” she said, taking a plate from the tray. James stared back at her, mouth wide for a second, before he turned to see Thomas looking positively delighted at the news.

“Really? Well, I’m sure it’ll be wonderful! Do you like to bake, Abigail?” he asked, dipping his fork into the mass of cream.

“I love it, Mr. Flint has bought me a few cookbooks, which I like to bake from. Safely, of course.” she added, watching the man devour a bite with glee. James leaned against the door frame with his coffee, observing the scene.

“Absolutely delicious, well done!” he said, digging in for a second mouthful. “The perfect form of bribery.”

He turned to Abigail and gave her a wink, before picking one last strawberry off and putting the plate to the side. “Right. Let’s get some of the official stuff done, shall we?”

Thomas reached down into his briefcase, grabbing a handful of stapled papers. He lay them out on the coffee table, and reached inside his jacket to get a pen. James took in his fitted navy three piece suit, waistcoat fully buttoned up, formal despite the relaxed setting of the meeting. He decided that Thomas likely spent more time pouring over paperwork than out seeing children.

“Do you look over many cases, Mr Hamilton?” James asked, watching him scribble the date down in a neat scrawl.

“Not many, to be honest. I tend to deal with older children, so less cases, but usually much more demanding. Not many as pleasant and easy to deal with as Miss Ashe appears to be.” he commented. Abigail looked at James while Thomas’ head was down and grinned, before poking her tongue out and making a face. James chuckled into his cup.

“So, you’re turning sixteen in a few months, is that right? Excited?” Thomas asked, looking up from his papers. Abigail smiled and nodded, sipping her tea. “How about school, how are you finding that? Settled in?”

“Yes, I have a few friends, girls from my class. I like English, and I’m taking Art, History, and Music for my options, which are all good. I’m preparing for next year’s exams, which is going well. Except Maths, I mean.” she said, looking down and fiddling with the hem of her dress. James knew it was one of her rare nervous traits, and decided to take over.

“You’re improving, though, Mr Williams said so. We’ll look at getting you a tutor in the summer, see if it helps.” he said, resting one hand on her shoulder. 

“It’s good that you feel settled, Abigail, and I’m glad you’ve made friends. You know, if you’re still looking in the summer, I actually had rather the knack for Maths. Almost studied it at university. I’d be happy to set up some tutoring sessions?” Thomas said gently, eyes focused on Abigail. She opened her mouth, taken aback.

“That would be very helpful, I’m sure she’d enjoy that.” James replied, filling in for her. She brought her hand up to his and held it in a gentle grip. 

“If you don’t mind me hovering around an afternoon or two every week, that is.” he said, aiming this at James. Oh, but of  _course_ , he’d have to have the handsome man sitting in his living room all summer long. How dreadful.

“I’m sure I’d cope. Might even be more cake in it for you.” James quipped, and Thomas gave a gentle laugh. He looked over to Abigail and saw her watching them both over her cup, eyes full of delight. Oh, the little darling shit. He knew she would be teasing him about the man as soon as he left.

They worked over the paperwork and finished their cakes, filling in various boxes and forms and getting-to-know-yous. Thomas asked about their hobbies, spoke to them about their bonding over literature (it turned out he was quite the bibliophile himself, as he browsed happily through their little library.), Abigail’s health, and so on. Penelope emerged from upstairs and curled merrily around his trouser ankle, and just as James was about to get rather nervous with the idea of ruining that lovely dark suit with bright ginger fur, Thomas leaned down and started scratching behind her ears, telling James that she was a beautiful creature while she purred at his feet, quite content. 

“Is it alright if I take a quick look around? I should really see Abigail’s bedroom, if that’s quite alright.” Thomas asked, putting the papers away. James pushed himself from the doorway to lead the way, while Abigail whisked away the plates and cups, leaving them alone.

“So, how are  _you_  adjusting? It’s not always easy for the guardians, especially first timers.” Thomas murmured when they were out of earshot, leaning in close on the stairway. James could smell his cologne, something vaguely flowery but masculine all the same.

“It was tricky at first, but we have our routines. We work around each other well. She’s hardly any trouble, behaves herself, sensible head on her shoulders, so she’s easy enough to look after.” James said, climbing up to the hallway as Thomas followed. “Took a little while to get used to cooking for two, making sure she gets to school on time, that sort of thing. And god, I forgot that some people actually  _like_  clothes shopping. Torture.”

“Well, you seem like a good influence, anyhow.” Thomas chuckled. James opened the door to the bedroom, allowing Thomas to step inside first. He gave a quiet gasp as he entered the room.

“You…you let her do this?” he asked in a small voice, staring around at the walls. The furnishings of the room were fairly basic. James had only used it as a spare room beforehand, quite bare in itself, so he had allowed Abigail to run wild. She had chosen a few pine wood furnishings, a small bed, a desk, a wardrobe, a bed stand. He’d also allowed her free reign with the walls.

The four walls were awash with colour, bright blue and green hues swirling beneath a pale blue sky, which bled onto the ceiling. James had insisted that he painted the ceiling himself, on a ladder, but aside from that she had run free. It created the vision of being half submerged in a tropical sea. Yellow sunlight dripped in places, and the sun itself was positioned brightly above the bed.

“She’s a big fan of romanticism, you see.” James offered up as an explanation. Thomas turned to him with a stunned smile wide on his face, eyes alight.

“She’s incredible.” he whispered. “It’s wonderful to see you encourage it, give her that freedom. I’m sure she appreciates it, more than you know.”

James felt his cheeks redden as Thomas continued to stare. He saw the man purse his lips together and reach into his suit jacket.

“Look, I know you’ve got the office line, for any troubles. But here’s my personal number. We can arrange those tutoring sessions, for example. I’d be rather intrigued to see your progress with her. Even after Madi comes back, perhaps.” he said, rather breathless. James stood speechless for a moment. Thomas pressed the phone into his hand, his own number on the screen. James copied it into his mobile, still in silence.

“Great! I can get yours off of the paperwork, or you can text me I suppose. Shall we go and see where Abigail is?” Thomas said, a faint blush creeping over his cheekbones.

He left after saying goodbye to Abigail, explaining that he was already running late for another appointment. She had wrapped up another slice of cake to give to him in a plastic box, explaining (slightly cheekily, James thought) that he could return the tupperware on his next visit.

When the door closed on him, she stood in the hallway, arms crossed over her dress, a smug smile on her face.

“Well. Tutoring lessons, then. Won’t that be fun for us all?” she said with glee. James sighed, one hand running up to meet his hairline, as she skipped past him on her way to the kitchen to get another piece of cake.

**Author's Note:**

> Also cross-posted to tumblr! http://princessprouvaire.tumblr.com/post/163062290726/a-flinthamilton-drabble-fill-for-the-foster


End file.
